


A Gift of Grace

by darklemercury



Category: Star Driver: Kagayaki no Takuto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-30
Updated: 2010-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 06:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklemercury/pseuds/darklemercury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takuto possesses several kinds of grace, but dislikes having the only spotlight. Sugata needs something to believe in. Perhaps they can help one another. (Post Episode 8)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift of Grace

**Author's Note:**

> There are many meanings to the word 'grace'. This little ficlet will involve more than one of them; see how many you recognize. It also involves roller skates and swans and ballet, but I'm convinced Takuto is probably a multi-talented wonderchild who can commune with nature. All real life factoids in this story are, to the best of my knowledge, correct. Hope you enjoy.

 

            It was a Sunday that found Sugata sitting on a park bench with a book. It was the first Sunday of the month, specifically, wherein his maids traditionally kicked him out of the house in order to go on a major cleaning spree. Sugata thought it completely unnecessary for him to leave the premises while this was going on, but Jaguar and Tiger probably didn’t want him to see them actually getting dirty doing their play-job. And that’s really all it was, a job they mimicked for show, but he couldn’t fault them for the enthusiasm with which they applied themselves to it. Perhaps they hoped that if they were good enough maids they’d never have to be good enough bodyguards and never ever good enough assassins. In the lives of those caught up in the struggle over the Cybodies, feeble hopes were all they had left to cling to; Sugata’s own had been slipping for some time now.

            So it was the first Sunday of the month that Sugata was sitting on a park bench with a book, determined to enjoy a good read a little and not be bothered by any madness unless it was rude enough to bring time to a screeching halt. And even if it did, the self-proclaimed Ginga Bishonen would pop up from wherever he was spending his Sunday alone, bait his opponents while exchanging blows, and then most likely make some sort of reference to his grandfather before spectacularly destroying the enemy. And then time would resume and Sugata would go back to his book like nothing had ever happened because as far as the rest of the world was concerned, nothing had. That was the only small grace gifted by the seal that bounded the Cybodies and his and Wako’s fates to this island. The seal did little to intrude on the rest of his life, leaving him with some pale mockery of normalcy that was only occasionally broken into by utter chaos and giant machinery.

            Fate itself, however, was much less kind, so it was not even fifteen minutes into the first chapter that something _had_ interrupted him, careening down the path the park bench was next to, hurtling around a bend, then turning from the path entirely and rocketing towards the nearby pond. The speeding thing leaped clear over the water without any pause in speed—or, Sugata suspected, a moment for common sense to kick in. The startled and outrage cries of the waterfowl at the sudden intrusion were a horrible cacophony and the Shindo family heir shared their sentiments. The thing, which by now Sugata realized had to be on roller skates of some sort, zoomed a quick loop around the pond once more before breaking off and, he realized with a growing sense of dread, was now heading back towards him and reducing its speed.

            To say Sugata hadn’t been expecting red hair and obnoxious stars when the skater came to a stop in front of him would have been lying. Unless maybe it had been Mizuno, but he sorely hoped no one was ever daft enough to give the overly exuberant girl a pair of death on wheels. But of course not, it was Takuto grinning like a fool. At least he had been wearing a helmet. It had stars on it and matched the skates as well. Sugata sighed and gave the universe up as an ineffable bastard, foreseeing that his illusion of a quiet Sunday had now been thoroughly shattered.

“Yo!” The redhead greeted while unbuckling his helmet. Freeing his hair of its confine, he blinked for a moment and then shook his head vigorously. After he was done, his flattened hair softly sprang back up into its usually arranged mess. Then he threw himself down on the bench next to Sugata and immediately crossed his legs, kicking the higher one in the air absently, roller skate still attached. Sugata eyed the wheeled footwear neutrally.

“You use roller skates?” He asked, not so much from curiosity as a convenient opener for polite conversation. He knew he might as well since the other teen wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.

“Actually,” Takuto laughed a little, “these are in-line skates, or rollerblades, see how the wheels are in a line?”

“I wasn’t aware there was much of a difference.” Sugata felt safe admitting.

“In-line skates were originally invented as a substitute for ice-skating during the summer, so Olympic athletes could continue practicing, you know? It’s way too warm here for ice-skating.” The Tsunashi boy rambled pleasantly, leaning back to stretch.

“So you ice-skate too.” Sugata said blandly.

“In the winter, yeah. I bet this place won’t get cold enough for it, though. I do regular roller skating sometimes too, but in-line skates are better for speed. And you can dance with quad skates!”

“…Dancing.” An eyebrow rose.

Takuto grinned, looking pleased with Sugata’s look of mild disbelief. “You should see me do a nutcracker split!”

Sugata tried not to imagine what that was and how painful it sounded, and instead changed the topic of conversation. “With all these other hobbies, I’m starting to see why your swordsmanship is in such a poor state.”

“Hey, we can’t all be as good as you, you know. That doesn’t mean I’m bad at it!” The redhead defended, rolling his eyes once. “Besides, fighting isn’t just about knowing how to attack. You have to know how to aptly dodge and all, right? And you might as well do it gracefully!”

            Sugata could see the inane logic that led Takuto to believe that roller skating would make for a better fighter—and sadly, he could recognize the proof of it, too. Sometimes it almost felt that Takuto moved more comfortably in his Cybody than his own skin. Cybodies powered themselves across the space of Zero Time with jet boosters that made them glide, and Takuto was a master at it that his enemies couldn’t hope to compete with, displaying such a level of finesse and speed that most opponents usually gave up trying to chase him down very quickly. And when one thought about it, wouldn’t a Cybody control like a person wearing skates? Perhaps more like ice skates than roller skates, but Takuto himself was proficient in both and said you could basically substitute the one for the other. Sugata could remember times when Takuto had even guided Tauburn into poses that seemed needlessly delicate and graceful, gliding one-footed with arms splayed out like a soaring bird.

“So you practice technical skating instead.” The blue haired teen concluded.

“Yup! It’s pretty fun, you should try it.” Takuto agreed amiably. Sugata narrowed his eyes.

“Takuto, piloting Samekh is impossi—“

“I said you should try it because it’s _fun_ , Sugata.” Takuto interrupted, and gave Sugata a look. It one of those startlingly complicated and meaningful looks, the kind that reminded Sugata that at once he was both underestimating the so-called Ginga Bishonen, and also hopelessly confused by him. It was difficult even for Sugata, who was an experienced actor in his own right, to tell when Takuto was playing the fool and when the other teenager was enjoying a moment’s innocence. It was the difference between a suggestion and a suggestion that was a promise, and a promise that was a threat. There were layers beneath the youthful glow of apparent ignorance, and sometimes Sugata admitted to himself that the other boy intrigued him. There was much of Takuto that he did not yet understand, but it was easy to see that there was a similarity between them. It was something Takuto recognized as well, and it was probably the reason he would momentarily drop his happy-go-lucky act and speak to Sugata as an equal.

And then there were moments when Tauburn’s pilot would launch himself over a duck pond and Sugata would wonder if he wasn’t imagining the levels of hidden persona.

“…It’s fun to give the swans a heart attack, is what you’re saying.” Takuto blinked at him, his previous split-second of severity forgotten.

“ _Swans_? There’re birds in that pond? Crap!” The redhead immediately turned his attention over to the pond, apparently trying to spy one of the aforementioned waterfowl and make sure he hadn’t scared them to death. He missed Sugata’s deadpan expression.

“…You thought it was empty.” Sugata said, evidently for his own benefit, since Takuto bobbed his head up as something on the other side of the pond caught his attention.

“Hey! There’s a food cart over there. Wait here a minute Sugata, okay?” And before Sugata could even decide if he wanted to bother responding to that, Takuto had hopped off the bench and back onto his skates, rolling down the little path and away from the bench in one fluid movement with a grace that seemed absurdly easy.

            Sugata watched him go for a minute, not bothering to follow. He already knew the cart Takuto was referring to, and it only sold sweet pastries that Sugata rarely had a taste for anymore. Instead he wondered if it would be worth trying to read more of his book before Takuto came back, and if he could even concentrate on perusing the pages after the conversation they had just had. He also wondered how far along Jaguar and Tiger were with the cleaning, and when it would be reasonable to head back to the mansion and be confident that he wouldn’t be shooed back out with a feather duster. Really, a feather duster. Did they think he was fatally allergic to dust?

            The more Sugata wondered, the more irrelevant things passed his mind. They were having chicken for dinner, he was relatively certain. They needed to buy more ice cream after the last time Wako had raided the refrigerator—only a complete fool would get between her and her love of Sougen Haz. Even Takuto, who had not previously witnessed Wako’s frozen dairy-induced rampage, had given the slender girl a wide berth during and after the event when she was enjoying her spoils, looking wide-eyed and perturbed. The history homework he had finished days ago was due tomorrow, and he double-checked with his memory of that morning that it was already safely packed in his bag. Sugata was meticulous to a fault; Wako called it anal retentiveness and claimed it was the reason he had kept a single lock of bang brushed to the wrong side since middle school and always just perfectly so. She was exaggerating.

            Sugata was, however, concerned with keeping a primed and prim appearance. Despite the fact that very few of individuals he kept company with shared his sentiments on style. The blue haired young man eyed the helmet that Takuto had left discarded next to him. Instead of his usual trademark red background and white stars, this one was white with red stars, and the skates had matched. This was presumably as much variation as Takuto felt his wardrobe needed. Sugata tried not to wonder if the redhead had stars on _all_ his clothes including the soles of his socks or something equally ridiculous.

            It was around this time, Sugata judged, that his unasked for company should have returned to the bench by walking, never mind by roller skates. Takuto had either gotten lost over a distance of a few meters, or more likely been distracted by something else. Taking a glance in the direction Takuto had disappeared off to quickly found the erstwhile teen by the water’s edge. Grasped in a crooked arm was a small paper bag, probably filled with pastries, and the other one was holding out a piece of the breading to a pair of swans, who were regarding the proffered foodstuff with an air of detached regality. Takuto had an easy smile sliding over his face, and patiently continued to hold the pastry out.

            Takuto was attempting to hand feed the pond swans. For the first time, Sugata briefly feared for the other’s life. His fear proved to be unfounded, however, when one of the swans—he had no idea if it was the male or the female but he knew they were a mated pair—reached out its long neck and daintily nibbled at the confectionary. Takuto’s smile widened, and it was one of the most honest and pure smiles Sugata could remember seeing in a long time. It was also the first time Sugata had ever seen someone try to hand feed the local swans and had not incited their anger instead. With a sigh, he finally placed his book down, bookmarking the page and setting it next to Takuto’s abandoned helmet. Getting up at his own sedate pace, he walked down closer to the pond where Takuto was crouched. Once he had gotten within a certain distance, one of the swans—who had both been snapping up the pieces of sweet bun Takuto had been handing them—turned to look at him. It scrutinized him for a moment, and then hissed. Takuto looked up, still grinning as Sugata reluctantly took a step away from the giant irate birds.

“Oh hey, sorry. I felt bad for scaring them earlier, so I wanted to apologize.” Takuto explained as one of the swans, feeling that Takuto wasn’t feeding them fast enough, began prying the next piece out of the teen’s inattentive fingers. Fingers that he still had at this point. Takuto didn’t seem to mind the large bills with their inner serrated edge scraping against his hands, but he did turn his attention back to them.

“You like swans much?” Sugata hazarded.

“Mhmmm.”

“Is one of your other hobbies ballet by any chance.” Sugata asked dryly.

“Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“… You actually do ballet.”

“It’s good exercise.” Takuto reasoned. “But this island isn’t big enough to even have a dedicated troupe. It’s kind of a shame, I enjoyed it but now I’m just practicing so I don’t lose the flexibility. I stopped it for a few months once, and you wouldn’t _believe_ how long it takes to get back into it.”

Sugata decided this was one of those things about Takuto he didn’t want to think too long on. “I’m sure if you asked the president of the Drama Club, she’d be quite happy to try and work something into the next performance for you.”

The star-garbed redhead laughed in response. “Nah, no thanks. I’d have to do it as a solo act then, and I’m no good being on a stage by myself.”

“This is coming from the person’s whose catch-phrase is “ _Dazzling the stage._ ” I’d like to point out.”

“It’s not a catch-phrase! And anyway, I’m not alone then, Tauburn is with me; we’re partners.” Takuto paused and looked up, regarding Sugata again for a moment before giving him a smaller smile. It was one of those smiles that meant something. “And now there’s you too, right?”

            Unlike everyone else, who walked on eggshells around him and cringed at any mention of his powers, Takuto seemed to have no such problem. If Sugata had understood him correctly, then Takuto had chosen to trust that Sugata wouldn’t lose himself again, and was even willing to trust that Sugata would be there to help him. Or perhaps he even meant that Sugata could trust _him_ , that they were in this together, as partners of a sort, even though Samekh remained inoperable and bound. Takuto viewed them as equals regardless, and trusted that. It was a strange concept to Sugata, but not an unpleasing one.

“Hey, these guys didn’t have any kids this year, did they?” Takuto asked suddenly, curious. Sugata shrugged.

“I’m not sure. If they had any, they probably fledged and left already. This pair has their wings clipped so they stay in the pond, but they let the children go.”

Takuto hmmm’d thoughtfully, then smiled. “I can’t wait to see their kids next year then! Hey, I bet your babies will be beautiful, won’t they?” He crooned to one of the swans and patted it on the beak, which the swan suffered with dignity in exchange for another piece of sweet bun.

“Cygnets are ugly, you know. There’re children stories about that.” Sugata felt obligated to remark. Takuto flashed him a grin.

“That’s why I like them the best!” He declared passionately.

“You like the ugly ones best?”

“Well if you were just born beautiful, what’s the point? You’d never know or appreciate the difference. I like swans because they’re born ugly and no one thinks they’re beautiful. But then they finally molt and bam! They suddenly transform and then they’re, well, swans; a world-wide symbol of grace and beauty. But they’re more beautiful for having been awkward and ugly first.” Takuto explained as he ripped up pieces of bun and handed them to the greedy birds.

            Sugata regarded him silently while he did this, not asking the question ‘ _Were you an ugly little swan once too, Takuto?_ ’ What Takuto had said sounded too much like empathy rather than sympathy, like something just shy of a confession. The quiet lasted for a few moments until it finally seemed that Takuto had run out of food for the birds. He dusted the remaining sugar off on his pants, and then stood up from his crouching position. He glanced at Sugata again, but this time did not turn back to the birds that were still staring at him expectantly.

“Hey… have you ever seen a black swan?”

Sugata raised both eyebrows this time. “There’s no such thing.”

“Yes there is, that’s just an old wives’ tale the Romans started!” Takuto persisted. “They found them in Australia like three hundred years ago. All black except the very tips of their wings. But nobody ever believed there would be black swans anywhere in the world despite how big the whole world is, until they found them. They were so sure of it they even had a saying about how something was as likely as a black swan. It meant it’d never happen. But then there they were, a whole species of black swan kicking around in Australia.”

Sugata let Takuto finish talking before he replied, “Alright, so there are swans in Australia that happen to be black. Is this important somehow?”

“Well, there’s this thing called the Black Swan Theory. It basically means that regardless how much you believe something won’t happen, how small the chance is of it occurring, that doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen. In fact, freak occurrences actually make more of a difference in the long run than any regular events or what people believed would happen. Any code of belief can be completely undone, once the absolute “never will” at its core is disproven.”

            Takuto stopped and stared out over the pond for a moment. His lips still moved for a second, muted, before they too ceased and he gathered his thoughts, watching as people and animals passed by on the other side of the pond. The pair of swans had finally become disinterested and now swam by side-by-side, the feathers of their wings fluffed out as they glided over the water’s surface, looking like the epitome of grace.

“So… you can’t predict life, basically. A black swan could happen at any time.”

“Takuto…”

            Takuto stopped again, and just looked at Sugata, like he was trying to memorize just how Sugata looked in this instance of time. That he was the one trying to understand Sugata for all that he was and might be and couldn’t be, just to understand him without judging or assuming. And Sugata, for once, had nothing he could say, because he knew Takuto wasn’t talking about swans anymore. He was talking about something infinitely more delicate and precious, something that might go by names like _hope_ and _freedom_. And it hurt. It hurt so much to think things could change. That something in this island could come alive again, and that there was a whole world outside the island, and maybe someday it would really only be a ferry ride away. It hurt to grasp hope that had been all but abandoned.

            But Takuto stood there, neither near nor far, but solid and real, looking like the epitome of grace. And suddenly Sugata thought of what he wanted to say.

“Your favorite performance is Swan Lake, isn’t it?”

“How’d you know?” The other teenager joked.

“…Maybe someday we’ll go see it together.”

            And Takuto’s eyes lit up, surprised and pleased, and he glowed like the brightest star in the galaxy that was this island, the galaxy that was slowly being drawn to him, pulled into his orbit and beginning to spin once more.

            And perhaps Sugata still had grace enough left to believe in things like hope.


End file.
